


Slow Burn

by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylsdarkplace/pseuds/Syls%20Darkplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s drinking has an affect on their sex life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Burn

**Author's Note:**

> True story -- sort of.

Dean has a drinking problem. He doesn’t think so, of course; to admit that he does would be to admit that their dad did, and Dean isn’t about to do that. Sam knows that he hasn’t done much to discourage it. He’s done his share of drinking. He’s a lot more likely to join in than not, but it affects their relationship in bed and out.

It isn’t that Dean can’t get it up when he’s drunk. No, he’s not that kind of cliché. Sam’s never known his brother not to be able get it up. On the contrary, when Dean is smashed he gets rock hard; he just can’t get off. Sam could suck his cock until his lips are swollen and numb, Dean could fuck his ass until its sore, but he still won’t get off. Sam feels bad about it. He wants Dean to get off. He loves giving his brother pleasure, and the way Dean is after an orgasm – all relaxed and content to be close to Sam.

Dean doesn’t care that much though. As long as he’s hard, he’s happy to make Sam feel good. It’s nice for awhile, but eventually the foreplay becomes frustrating – more teasing and torture than pleasure, and Dean’s been teasing for awhile now. Sam’s got small bruises blooming all the way down his chest and over his abs where Dean has nipped him repeatedly. He’s sucked Sam’s cock almost to the point of orgasm at least five times, and now he’s working on his asshole in between sips of whiskey. So this isn’t going to get any better any time soon, Sam figures.

“Dean, Dean, come on, man, this is torture,” Sam moans and then moans louder as his brother shoves his tongue into Sam’s already sopping hole. Dean groans.

“God, Sammy, your ass …” Dean pushes a finger into Sam’s hole then, and Sam’s hips fly up off the bed.

“Fuck,” he yelps. “That burns. What the fuck?”

Dean chuckles. “You like that Sammy? A little whiskey?”

And, yeah, Sam thinks as his cock goes diamond hard, he does kind of like it. He and Dean have issues with pain. They’ve both felt a lot of it over the years from minor injuries during hunts to the tortures of hell, and maybe they’ve gotten some wires crossed over the years. It never occurred until right now that feeling like he’s had a hot pepper shoved up his ass would feel so fucking awesome, but, hey, he’s kind of twisted, and Dean knows just what kind of twisted.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam pants.

Dean chuckles again. “Thought you might.” The burning brand of a finger slides into him again, and precum spurts onto Sam’s belly. The finger is followed by the soothing slide of Dean’s tongue fucking in and out of him. Sam fists his hands in the sheets and squirms under Dean’s ministrations.

He hears ice clink in the glass as Dean takes a drink, and then his mouth is back on Sam’s asshole. He is totally unprepared when icy liquid runs up into his channel followed by the now familiar burn. Sam cries out, and Dean does it again and again. Sam’s muscles are twitching and clenching, and he can’t decide if he’s feeling pleasure or real pain now. He wonders how the alcohol is affecting his insides because it’s getting more sensitive. Dean’s finger feels a little like sand paper, but his tongue is like a balm. Sam can’t bring himself to say stop.

Dean’s lips close around his hole and suck. His tongue laps inside, and holy fuck, Sam is almost sobbing.

“God, you’re so full of whiskey, Sammy,” Dean says and sucks again.

“Please, please,” Sam chokes out.

“Please, what, Sammy?” There’s still amusement in Dean’s voice.

“Fuck me,” Sam says, “please, fuck me.” Sam hates it when he begs to be fucked. Dean is so self-satisfied as it is. Sam hates fueling that fire. Dean is bound to be all smug for next day or so, but right now he can’t help himself. He needs, and that’s all that matters.

“Okay, okay, Sammy,” Dean whispers. He sets the glass on the table and crawls up between Sam’s legs, pushing them over his shoulders. He rubs his hand through the puddle of precum on Sam’s belly and slicks his cock. As the head of Dean’s cock begins to push into him, Sam feels like his hole is begging for it – muscles straining open for more. The need is so overwhelming that he raises his hips to swallow Dean faster even though he knows he’ll get scolded for it. Dean stops moving.

“Sam,” he warns. When Dean’s in control like this, he likes to pretend that he wants total control. Sam knows different. Dean loves making him like this – unable to hold back, to lie still and take it – but that won’t stop Dean from giving him a hard time.

“Then fuck me, jerk,” Sam pants.

“Bossy bottom,” Dean chuckles.

Sam digs his fingers hard enough into Dean’s thighs to bruise. “Fuck you, Dean.”

“Oh no, fuck you, bitch,” he says and slides all the way in, and every inch of Sam’s insides is oversensitive. It doesn’t exactly burn, but then, yeah, maybe it does. He feels the slow slide and drag of Dean’s skin inside him like the rub of clothing over sunburnt skin, and that should not feel good, so fucking awesome. Dean lifts Sam’s hips a little higher, and there, right fucking there, he knows how to hit Sam’s prostate just right with the perfect combination of pressure and slide.

Sam’s shaking and moaning, and he doesn’t fucking care that Dean is chuckling between his own moans. It isn’t like Dean doesn’t get pleasure from these drunken marathon fucks. He just doesn’t get off. If he’s left with blue balls, he doesn’t complain. He’ll jack off about fifteen minutes after they’re done. Sam isn’t sure why that works for him. Maybe, he just gets to over stimulated, whatever, right now, they’re both moaning and cussing loud enough to wake the dead, which would be fucking awkward because neither one is prepared to vanquish a spirit right then.

“Dean,” Sam cries out. He feels his balls tightening and the burn is slowly igniting throughout his gut, spreading through is veins. He throws his head back. “Please, Dean, fuck.”

“So fucking hot, Sammy,” Dean moans. “Fuck, your ass is like a fucking vice.” Suddenly there’s a banging on the other side of the wall above the bed. “Shut the fuck up, over there,” Dean yells and then laughs. “Just jealous his brother isn’t as hot as mine,” Dean says quietly to Sam as he continues to fuck into him again and again, lighting Sam up like a fucking stadium on Superbowl night.

Sam hits the edge and topples over, but what he sees on Dean’s face almost makes him miss his own orgasm, because suddenly Dean’s eyes go wide in surprise. Sam knows, he feels the added slick as Dean spills into him. Dean’s eyes fall shut, and he’s panting between parted lips. Sam manages to get his legs off Dean’s shoulders and around his waist. He catches Dean’s lips with his own. Kisses him deep, breathing in Dean’s breath. He holds him in a tight embrace.

Dean will allow it for now – this closeness – and Sam doesn’t want him to pull out. He knows Dean will be hard for awhile despite the orgasm especially if they stay like this. Sam clenches his anal muscles and Dean flinches. Sam chuckles against Dean’s neck as his brother relaxes on top of him. Dean is a big guy, but Sam’s bigger. He can handle Dean’s weight on his chest. He enjoys it.

Dean presses his face into the curve of Sam’s neck.

“That was …”

“Yeah, it was,” Sam agrees.

“I should get your ass drunk more often,” Dean says, and Sam can hear the smile in it.

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam sighs. “Maybe you should try it. Maybe you’ve been putting it in the wrong end.”

He feels Dean laugh, and he runs his fingernails up Dean’s side. His brother shivers against him.

“Mm, worth a try,” Dean says, and Sam knows he won’t. This is just another weapon in Dean’s arsenal, another way to wind Sam up, to tease and torture, but Sam’s not complaining. He clenches his anal muscles again just feel Dean flinch. He chuckles.

“Bitch,” Dean slurs out.

Sam smiles. “Jerk.”

The End.

 _Thank you for reading. I would love to hear fr_ _om you._


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